


From Despair, Hope

by misura



Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fuck Or Die, Language Barrier, M/M, Prisoner of War, Public Sex, Ritual Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 05:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12549532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Three of Gul'dan most loyal came for him just as the sun was about to set, leading in the time traditionally reserved for rituals and meetings.





	From Despair, Hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heeroluva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/gifts).



Three of Gul'dan most loyal came for him just as the sun was about to set, leading in the time traditionally reserved for rituals and meetings. Durotan didn't ask where they were taking him, or what might be expected of him once he got there. If Gul'dan had wished him to know, he would have been told; as he had not been told, there would be no point in asking.

Gul'dan was speaking, as they arrived. Had been speaking for a while, by the sound of it. Garona stood by his side, expressionless, and Orgrim Broken Hammer, eyes on the crowd.

Durotan supposed that answered his question of whether the Frostwolves had been included in this gathering, or if they were still restricted to their portion of the camp, hostages to their chieftain's good behavior. After what Orgrim had done, he would never voluntarily meet the gaze of any of them.

A show, then. A spectacle, to demonstrate Gul'dan power and Durotan's lack of it.

Durotan wondered why Gul'dan would even bother. After the mockery of the mak'gora, after none had stood against him for breaking the rules of the sacred ritual, what more reassurance did Gul'dan need to be assured that his command of the Horde was absolute?

People might serve Gul'dan out of fear rather than out of respect, but they served him nonetheless. If they had not risen up against him while Durotan had still been chieftain in anything but name, why would they do so now, when he had already been reduced to a prisoner?

And then Gul'dan stopped speaking and gestured, and Durotan realized that this meet was not about him, after all.

*

Khadgar had been careless.

Or, well, no, he hadn't - he'd been very care _ful_ , in fact, staying fully aware of his position at all times, and keeping track of his magic and how much of it he had used, but nevertheless, he had been knocked over the head and captured, and so, clearly, he'd messed up somewhere along the line.

Lothar was going to scold him. There would probably also be yelling, and Khadgar might find himself slammed against a desk or a wall, and it would all be rather embarrassing.

Of course, before any of that happened, he'd need to be rescued, so it was possible that he should stop worrying about Lothar and start worrying about the orcs, except that once he started worrying about the orcs, he didn't seem able to _stop_ worrying about the orcs.

There were rather a lot of them. They all seemed very interested in him, too, the way human children might be interested in some young, helpless animal presented for their amusement in a cage.

Khadgar wasn't sure what it meant that they had let him out of the cage now, but he doubted that they'd all gathered around to, say, see him eat a nice dinner, or drink some clean, fresh water.

Garona had told him Gul'dan might challenge him to a mage duel, even if orcs didn't really have mage duels, by virtue of not having a lot of mages. She'd also mentioned some ritual battle where Gul'dan would just crush him physically, but she'd told him that was unlikely to happen.

She might have been wrong. _Something_ was clearly supposed to happen in the empty circle around which the orcs were gathered, and Khadgar couldn't think of many things requiring that amount of space, as well as a prisoner.

_Actually, make that_ two _prisoners._

*

Durotan remembered the small-teeth. Their paths had crossed two times before.

It seemed a pity that they would not meet one another a fourth time, let alone as many times as it took for a man to lose count and simply call another one 'friend'. Still, if Gul'dan's intention was to see one of them dead tonight, Durotan intended to ensure it would be him, rather than the small-teeth.

The small-teeth had protected his friends by using a power both like and unlike that of Gul'dan. Durotan lacked the words to properly describe it, but he had seen and felt it. It was not like the Fel, which corrupted. It did not require life to fuel it. It came, simply, at the bidding of the small-teeth.

Perhaps it was because they only used it to protect and defend, rather than to conquer. Perhaps the Fel corrupted because Gul'dan had sought to use it for his own gain and glory, rather than to use it in service of the Horde.

Durotan could well imagine Gul'dan feeling the small-teeth to be a threat. People might wonder why, if the small-teeth wielded such powers, their land was not dying. People might question why, if this small-teeth might match Gul'dan's spells, his people had not made him their leader.

If the small-teeth died here tonight, though, such questions would be silenced before they might even be asked out loud. Likely, only a few people had seen the small-teeth before he had been captured. To most, he meant nothing. One small-teeth, in a land full of them.

Gul'dan gestured, and one of his men threw the small-teeth to the ground, in the middle of the circle.

They had stripped him, Durotan saw. He looked cold and vulnerable. If Durotan had not been a prisoner himself already, he knew he would have stepped forwards now, to shield and protect this small-teeth. Orcs did not torture their prisoners. Orcs killed their enemies in battle, bringing glory to the Horde, and those too weak to fight, they took as slaves. That was the honorable way. That was the way Durotan's father had lived, and his father's father before him.

Durotan would not shame their memory. He would die as they had lived, an honorable chieftain of the Frostwolves, his only regret that he would never see his son surpass him.

*

If Lothar was going to show up for a rescue, Khadgar decided, the first thing Khadgar was going to say to him would be 'what took you so long?'. Or maybe 'you're late'. Lothar would scowl and say something insulting about mages, and then they'd both go home.

Alternately, something unpleasant might happen. That would be ... unpleasant.

Khadgar hadn't really spent a lot of time studying up on war and stuff, but he didn't think that it was a good sign when people took away your clothes. The fact that they hadn't even bothered to fold them seemed to indicate he wasn't expected to put them on again.

There was only a limited number of reasons why Khadgar would never again put on his clothes, and few of them failed to fill him with a certain sense of foreboding. The odds of Gul'dan being a tailor in his spare time and wishing for Khadgar to show off his latest creation in front of everyone seemed passingly small. The odds of Gul'dan sucking out his life force and fueling one of his spells with it seemed rather greater, although Khadgar didnt see why he'd have to be naked for that.

The crowd kept its distance, so that was one unpleasant possibility eliminated, at least - unless they were just waiting for Gul'dan to give them the go-ahead. There _was_ an air of expectation, like they were waiting for something. 

_Something ... or someone._

Khadgar recognized the orc as the one Garona had spoken to, once. _Durotan. Of the Frost Wolves._ She had called him honorable and a good man, which might explain the chains.

From what Khadgar had seen so far, orcs did not greatly value goodness or honor.

Durotan's expression seemed reluctant. Like Khadgar, he had been stripped; unlike Khadgar, he did not appear bothered by it. He walked forwards slowly, reluctantly, giving Khadgar plenty of time to reconsider the options.

With two people involved, they seemed fewer than before. Gul'dan _might_ have decided to kill them both at the same time, to demonstrate his power, but Khadgar was fairly sure that he, at least, looked far from dangerous at the moment. Nobody would be impressed if Gul'dan killed him right now, although he liked to think Lothar would be a bit annoyed. (Or, fine, a lot.)

Durotan did look dangerous. Khadgar didn't feel threatened (why didn't he feel threatened? he _should_ be feeling threatened) but if Lothar was too busy for a rescue, he thought Durotan might be his second choice. _Pity that's not what he's here for._

_Unless, of course, he is._

*

Two warriors who did not wish for a mak'gora might settle their differences in this way. A public ritual, one of them submitting to the other in reparation for any wrongs or insults offered.

Under the right circumstances, there was no dishonor in it. Friends or lovers, fallen out over a small or large matter, might so reconcile if pride would not permit either of them an apology. In that case, the ritual would be performed twice, with each of them once submitting and once being submitted to.

Enemies might end their feud, with the understanding that the ritual would only happen once, the one submitting showing all the world that they were craven and cowardly, preferring submission over death in battle.

Durotan himself, when courting Draka, had offered to perform it for her after she had hit him over the head with a pan during an argument. (She had been very annoyed and called him an idiot, but lying awake in her bed later that night, he had thought that perhaps he was not such an idiot as that.)

Performed between two prisoners, one of whom was a small-teeth, it was a perversion.

Durotan had no intention of forcing the small-teeth to submit to him. There was no debt between them, no insult offered. The small-teeth were not the enemy.

He might submit to the small-teeth, who likely did not know the ritual. At least the small-teeth would be spared that way, but Durotan's honor would be destroyed, and with his honor, that of the Frostwolves. Gul'dan would announce them weak, unfit to belong to the Horde, and they would be slaughtered to the last infant.

Any choice he made would be the wrong one. Either choice would give Gul'dan what he wanted.

*

Garona had taught Khadgar a few words of her language. The words felt strange in Khadgar's mouth - even perfectly normal ones, like 'good morning' or 'please, don't kill me' (although orcs did not say 'please', of course, because orcs were a proud people, and anyway, as Garona pointed out, no orc would heed the words of a small-teeth so there was no use whatsoever in Khadgar learning that phrase).

Still, the Kirin Tor had diagnosed him with a talent for languages before they'd also diagnosed him as an unfit pupil, and Lothar had looked vaguely enthusiastic when Khadgar had mentioned learning the orcish language to him (or well, more vague than enthusiastic), and so Khadgar had done his best.

Khadgar wasn't under any kind of illusion that he might speech himself to freedom, but if worst came to worst, as would happen any second now, he might at least offer verbal discouragement and/or encouragement, depending on the exact circumstances.

He might have a nice chat with Durotan about how Gul'dan was just the _worst_ , and how the weather was sort of nice for this time of year, and how Khadgar had maybe sort of fantasized about the two of them meeting again one day. (Not like this, obviously. Khadgar's fantasy had involved a tent, and Durotan smiling at him, and things like oil and bedrolls and cushions and him saying 'yes' a lot.)

Durotan shuffled a little closer, and it occurred to Khadgar that they were getting to the point of 'now or never' - at least when it came to last-minute rescues, and that it seemed that Lothar had decided to be inconsiderate and not show up.

Khadgar was definitely going to have to say something about that the next time he saw Lothar.

*

"Greetings," said the small-teeth, just as Durotan struggled with the question of how to communicate with someone who did not understand his language.

"Greetings." Durotan allowed himself to feel a spark of hope. The ritual would still be uncomfortable, but with the two of them able to speak to one another, at least he might minimize the discomfort which the small-teeth would suffer. "I am Durotan." To name himself as chieftain of the Frostwolves would be vanity, so he refrained.

He kept his voice low, as the small-teeth had, to keep the crowd from overhearing them.

"Khadgar," the small-teeth said. Durotan assumed for the moment that it was his name. "You are similar to me. Bad duck. We should attempt a theft together."

"We are both prisoners to Gul'dan," Durotan agreed, trying to sort out the rest of Khadgar's words. "He would see us robbed of all honor." Now was not the time to mention most small-teeth had no honor to begin with in the eyes of an orc. "I have no wish to harm you."

"Killing me would make you go very sick, because I have terrible magic," said Khadgar. "It will cause your teeth to fall out, and you will never have sons. Do you have a flower?"

"I need your trust," Durotan said. Only one person might have taught Khadgar his language. Given the amount of time she'd had at her disposal, Durotan supposed he should be grateful.

"I trust you," said Khadgar, confirming that if his pronunciation might be lacking, at least his understanding was very good. Durotan could think of several circumstances under which that would not have been to Khadgar's advantage.

It was to both their advantage under the present ones, though. Durotan wondered how much influence Garona held over Gul'dan's decisions, and how much she had risked to give them this chance to - well.

_Do you have a flower?_ Khadgar had asked, meaning, of course, _Do you have a plan?_.

"I have no plan, other than to survive. He holds my clan," Durotan said. The small-teeth did not seem to have clans, so he was unsure if Khadgar would understand. "I have no concern for my own life, but theirs, I must protect at all costs."

*

"I have no flower, other than to survive. He holds my family," Durotan said. "I do not worry for my disguise, but I must object at any price."

The crowd was beginning to become a bit impatient, Khadgar thought. Fair enough, given that he himself had wondered what was taking Lothar so long mere moments ago, but still.

"You are expected to lie with me," said Khadgar.

"Yes," Durotan said. "It is Gul'dan's wish that you are revealed of all honor, and I likewise."

Khadgar swallowed. He realized that part of him had hoped Durotan would say 'no', that he'd missed or misunderstood something. It wasn't that he had any objection to the idea of 'lying with' Durotan - at least, not that much. But doing so here and now, with a crowd of orcs looking on ...

_It's the loneliness that gets to you,_ Medivh had said, once. Khadgar wondered if he should feel smug at having proven him wrong, because it certainly wasn't loneliness that was going to kill Khadgar.

It wouldn't be Durotan, either, or sex with Durotan, however intimidated Khadgar was by his size. So, really, things weren't that bad. He was going to survive this, just like he'd survived the Kirin Tor and all of the war thus far and Karazhan and the sacking of Stormwind.

Durotan would be careful, or as careful as he'd know how to be, which might not be saying much, unless Durotan had 'lain with' other humans before. (In which case jealousy was definitely not the right kind of emotion to experience.)

"I - " said Khadgar. He was already naked. He might have started undressing, otherwise, by way of a subtle hint. "It is my wish, also."

*

It was not as it was with Draka, who matched him strength for strength.

The ritual made that impossible, regardless. However willing Khadgar might be, his body was not of a size which would submit easily to being taken by any orc, and Durotan was a chieftain from a long, proud line of chieftains. His body had been shaped to be a shield to his people, and a pleasure to his mate.

Oil might have eased things, but ease was not part of the ritual. An orc might have offered his mouth, if the offense had been small or if the one he submitted to wished it, but Durotan saw little reason to expect that to be easier. Also, to his shame, the idea of holding Khadgar's head in place while taking his pleasure of him in such a way made him feel a stab of desire.

It was too easy to picture such a scene - and Durotan might use his other hand to stroke Khadgar's small cock at the same time, making it enjoyable for both of them. He'd feel the small drops of Khadgar's seed, spilling over his fingers and Khadgar's small teeth, teasing at his cock.

Better by far to do it like this. To get it over with quickly and efficiently, and save any ideas of love mates for later, when Draka and his son would be safe. When orcs and small-teeth lived together in peace, and Khadgar might come by his tent and show his son that not all magic need corrupt.

They would never again speak of this moment. Thus, they would make it as if it had never happened, so that next time they lay together, it might be for the first time.

*

Khadgar had expected pain, and there certainly was some of that. However, there was also a certain amount of pleasure going on, which, for now, he was going to consider a good thing.

His body might disagree with him in the morning, assuming he lived that long, but there was something to be said for having sex with someone who was a lot bigger than your average human. Not that Khadgar had had a lot of experience with those - people were really weird about mages sometimes, even after Khadgar explained to them that, honestly, turning people into sheep? Strictly temporary. (Also: who brought up _sheep_ when you'd just propositioned them? Maybe just as well that particular encounter hadn't gotten beyond the 'hi, come here often?' stage.)

He'd never exactly been dissatisfied during sex with human partners, but after the tenth or so, the novelty had sort of worn of. He'd find himself getting distracted in the middle of things, thinking of some book he might need to track down, or some bit of information Lothar might find useful.

The short version was: sex had never felt like this. He'd never felt this _full_ , like Durotan's cock had been designed specifically for Khadgar to be filled by. He felt desperately empty, when Durotan pulled out - and then Durotan pushed inside again slowly, stretching him a little further, filling him a bit more than the last time, even though he hadn't thought that to be possible, and it was _perfect_.

Khadgar might almost forget neither of them was here because they wanted to be. He'd certainly stopped thinking about the crowd - even Gul'dan, who had to be wondering what had happened to his 'humiliate Durotan and Khadgar' plan.

Unless, of course, his plan was to try and bribe Khadgar by offering him more sex with Durotan, in which case Khadgar supposed he might be the tiniest bit tempted to at least _pretend_ to cooperate.

He couldn't seem to stop moaning, or begging Durotan to fill him again, to take him harder, deeper - none of which Durotan understood, probably, although he seemed to catch the gist of it. One of his huge hands had envelopped Khadgar's own cock and was stroking it slowly with one finger.

Khadgar wasn't sure he even needed that much to come, with Durotan's cock filling him. Compared to that, the sensation of Durotan's finger on his cock barely even registered as anything other than a distraction. More friction might have made him come on the spot, but Durotan wasn't giving it to him, preferring instead to try and see how far he might stretch Khadgar's hole, how much of his cock Khadgar's body might be forced to take in.

Durotan, too, was moaning, mumbling words Khadgar didn't understand. He chose to assume they were flattering to his person, though, and made an effort to take Durotan in a bit deeper the next time Durotan thrust inside of him. (A wholly selfless gesture, clearly, having nothing to do with Khadgar's own desires in that direction.)

If Lothar were to show up right now for a rescue, Khadgar decided he'd probably tell him to get lost.

*

Khadgar cried out, spent. Durotan felt Khadgar's body tighten around his cock one final time, to take him over the edge as well.

He had not expected that lying with a small-teeth would feel as good as this, or that he would be able to make Khadgar enjoy the experience as much as he clearly had. Those were good things.

Gul'dan would be dissatisfied with the outcome of the ritual. That was also a good thing, but it might turn into a bad one. Gul'dan would not give up so easily as that.

If Durotan could get word to the Frostwolves, they might make their escape. All of them, together at the same time, leaving Gul'dan without any hostages. It would not be easy, but if Garona truly was still one of their allies, she might be willing to help - or even join them.

With Khadgar by his side, surely Durotan might convince whatever small-teeth had been made king that the Frostwolves were not as the other orcs; that they were honorable warriors, driven from their homes by Gul'dan's foul magic. An arrangement might be worked out, a new territory for his clan, where they might hunt and live as their forefathers had.

He would mention, also, that it was only because of Gul'dan that the Horde was behaving as it was. The other tribes were not his responsibility as the Frostwolves were, but even so, he wished the small-teeth to understand. Otherwise, the war would never end.


End file.
